


The Habit

by crabcakebenedict



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/POV, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mild Language, Multi, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Reader-Insert, Sam/POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:10:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9656957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crabcakebenedict/pseuds/crabcakebenedict
Summary: After a particularly traumatizing hunt, you're emotionally torn up, but instead of talking to the brothers about your turmoil, you turn to other methods of coping. Dean and Sam have been watching you, and your odd behavior for awhile. One day, they decide to confront you. Hopefully, they can deliver you before things get out of hand.





	1. Black Balloon

**Author's Note:**

> **Hey guys! Please be nice to me; I'm just starting out. But I do accept constructive criticism, so that's okay :)**
> 
>  
> 
> **Please be warned that this is pretty laced with mentions of drugs. I don't want to trigger anyone.**
> 
> **I threw in the boys' POV's cause why not???**
> 
> **Also, drugs aren't cool! Don't do them! This is not meant to glamorize anything.**
> 
> **Uh, that's it? I'm super nervous about posting my writing at all so if you enjoyed it, please feel free to let me know :)  
> **  
>  _Sooo the extension I use plopped a name in while I was editing. I've gone ahead and fixed that. How embarrassing. Excuse me while I sob (T⌓T)_

The rush was nearly instant, white powder coating your nostrils and seeping through the mucous walls to your vibrating bloodstream. Running water muffled the sounds of your sniffing. You knew you had to lay off the stuff, Dean and Sam were going to figure it out. But the substance held you captive by easing up the pain in your chest from the crushing guilt, keeping you up to avoid frightening nightmares that left you wrecked in the morning. You couldn't just quit. Yes, you were a runaway train speeding towards a sad end. But you couldn't just quit. 

Dean was pretending not to be concerned, head propped up by a hand covering his mouth, eyes on a book. Your frequent trips to the bathroom, the extensive hand washing wasn't lost on him, and he was starting to assume the worst.

Sam propped a foot on the other knee and bounced his leg worriedly. A book rest between his fingers, but he couldn't concentrate. Something was up with you. You rarely slept or ate these days, yet you seemed to have limitless amounts of energy. When you finally did slow down, you'd crash for anywhere close to a day, your body resetting itself to start back at one. It wasn't normal but what did he know about that.

"Do you think something's wrong?" Sam's eyes lifted from his book to dance between Dean and the bathroom door. His voice laced with anxiety.

Dean's jaw flexed. "She better friggin' hope it's a bladder problem." 

\------

When you emerged from the bathroom, renewed with a fresh buzz, you plopped down on the bed and resumed researching an old volume. Your leg was bouncing, urging you to get up and move. Your fingers began tapping mindlessly, and it was next to impossible to sit still. 

Dean's forest green orbs were scrutinizing you. It felt like lasers were drilling into your being, and it made you uncomfortable at best. The brothers had shared a look of mutual understanding before the older hunter spoke. 

"You alright there, Y/N?" Dean's voice was deep and rough against the cool motel room air.

"Mhm!" You bobbed your head lightly, but your gut was now wringing itself like a wet dish cloth. They knew something, and you didn't want to face that. Your eyes stayed focused on the book, entire body still fidgeting despite the attempts to fight it. It just wasn't anything you could especially help.

"Are you sure 'cause you haven't stopped moving since you came out of the bathroom. Which by the way you've been to 3 times in a half hour." Sam spoke pointedly, and brows pulled together.

You suddenly felt defensive, puffing up at their observations. "I always move, you just don't pay attention and how often I go to the bathroom is my business, you dumb moose. Back off and do some research before you get someone else killed."

Sam was completely caught off guard by your sharp tone. You didn't have a history of talking to him that way, and it settled the notion that something was amiss. The brown haired hunter shared a doleful look with his brother before they both sighed and raised from their seats. 

You looked up to see them stalking towards you. The attempt you made to skitter up the bed and dart under stretching arms was fruitless. Sam enveloped you in his mighty grip, so tight you had no chance of escape. Dean was quick to start frisking you. Heavy hands patted from your hips down, fingers dipping into every pocket in your denim jeans. Your whole body was writhing and protesting, you trying your damn hardest to get free, to prevent Dean from finding your stash. The Hunter skillfully avoided most of your kicks, but you managed to land a few good ones to his shins. 

"Hold her still, Sam!" Dean exhorted, dodging another thrash.

Sam's arms adjusted around your middle, his muscles rippling as he fought against your every action. He could feel your heart beating out chest, a fusion of the drugs and tremendous effort, and it made him worry you might just have a heart attack in his limbs. "I'm trying, Dean!" 

"Let go of me you jackass!" You wanted to bite him, and you almost resorted to it too. 

When Dean didn't find what he was looking for on your lower half, he dipped his fingers into one of your bra cups, the plastic baggy found. He fished it out, the anger and disappointment bubbling up in him as he pulled the powder into sight. Sam released you, and you lunged at Dean to grab your sweet relief back. He held you back by a single firm hand. You recoiled and then jumped at him again. He still held the bag.

"It's nothing, give it back! I swear it's nothing!" You begged for mercy, but you knew they wouldn't offer it to you. At least not right away.

The brothers' foreheads were permanently creased now, and there was a furnace deep in Dean's stomach dominating his tongue as he spat heated words at you. "Nothing?! Are you freaking kidding me, Y/N? This is a pretty big something."

"You're doing drugs, that does not constitute fine, or okay, or nothing." Sam's face was hit with thorough distress, his voice thick with it. The sight of it tore at the depths of your heart, you never wanted to hurt either of them. Dean's countenance was hardened, jaw clenching with all the things he wanted to say but held back. He was pacing, feet burning trails behind him.

The dirty blond hunter blamed himself, in part, for not knowing something was wrong far before it got to freaking blow. "Why?!" He growled. 

Even Sam's sights snapped to his brother, surprised by the explosive question but then his eyes fixated back on you, fully expecting an answer. His lips were tight, frowning.

You glanced between the two of them, they both looked dispirited at this discovery. It walloped you like a punch to the gut. Your feet stumbled back, and you landed hard on the edge of the bed. Your frame crumpled over, head in your heads, fingers smoothing up and into your hair, anxiously gripping it. You wanted just to shake this whole moment like an etch-a-sketch and erase it from your memory, from theirs. While you were at it, erase the whole recollection of the hunt too.

When you hadn't spoken, Dean thundered again, his sharp jaw tight "I said why Y/N?!"

You abruptly looked up, shocked by the power in his speech. Then your feet fired you straight for the older hunter, small hands colliding with his chest to shove him backward. It did little to set him off balance, his frame robust in design. You didn't want to hit him, not actually, but you were controlled mostly by stimulants now, and aggression wasn't out of your realm.

"Why?" You repeated back to him, hostility sliding off your tongue. "Because it hurts! It fucking hurts!" 

The brothers shared another look, Dean turning back to burrow his emerald eyes into you. Mixed in with all the emotions, you could tell he was now confused. 

"Because living with all this guilt is killing me. I can't sleep at night. You know why? I have nightmares of that thing and how it tore all those people to shreds all because I was too late. " There was a power behind your voice that made both brothers silence. You pushed Dean again, and he lasted, sturdy frame taking every one of your assaults. He might have bruises later, but he was okay with that. 

Sam wondered whether he should scoop you up again to keep you from swinging at his brother for no reason, but he stood there frozen to the ground, still reeling from everything, especially what you had just said. 

It was at this moment both hunters realized you weren't constructed of steel. You were soft, bruised on the inside, cracking beneath the weight of the world. 

"Maybe if you talked to us, we could've helped." Sam's voice rolled out gentle, brows knitting together to form concern. He was pushing down what he honestly felt, dismay, to benefit you. 

You made a small laugh that sounded more like blowing air, a defeated shrug dropping from your shoulders. "Maybe." But truthfully, you weren't sure that would've done much. Perhaps that was pessimism talking. 

A silence had stretched before you before Dean stormed off in the direction of the bathroom. You heard a toilet flush and you knew precisely what he had done. Sam noticed you wince at the sound, and it was evident in that moment just how dependent you had become.

"We're gonna get you some help, Y/N." He closed some distance between you, his strong hand resting on your shoulder, hazel eyes searching your face. You couldn't look at him, it felt like that would be admitting something -- that you had a problem. "It wasn't your fault...none of this is your fault."

Dean's heavy boots filled the room, and he winded right by the two of you, slamming the motel door as he exited into the night.

**Dean's POV**

I should've seen it. It all added up to paint a complete picture, and everything was so apparent now. She had become erratic, especially on hunts. More than once her behavior nearly got us killed. I could remember a time she was calm and focused. Now she was turbulent and high-strung. I should've noticed all those times she disappeared into dark corners of the various cities we ended up in. I should've known something was very wrong the first time Sam had to carry her to the car, flung over his shoulder like a rug because neither of us could wake her. 

Not only was I frustrated in Y/N but myself as well because I was not a stupid man by any means. Yet I hadn't scented this out, and it was going on right under my nose. Why she hadn't talked didn't surprise me, though. I hadn't exactly given her the heart-to-heart sort of vibe. Sam was good with the emotional stuff; I was still processing the how to's of it all. 

I let the crisp night caress my skin, exhaling all the air in my lungs, a light cloud forming in its wake. Storming out on Y/N probably wasn't the best idea, but I was sure yelling at her wasn't either. I could still see her face when I asked her why. Her confession pulled apart my insides. I hated that she blamed herself for something even Sam or I couldn't have prevented. It sucked, sure, I wanted to save the whole world too. 

"Goddamnit," I whispered harshly, raking my hands over my face. Sam and I needed to talk, needed to figure out a course of action to get her help. I didn't want to see her continue down this path, and I could guarantee Sam didn't want that either. Y/N and I needed to talk too. She needed to know that no matter what, I was always here for her. I had to make that clearer to her. 

Sam had a thing for her, but she was still a good friend, and therefore my concern for her ran deep. Before she had slipped, I couldn't count on both hands how many times she backed us up and prevented things from going horribly wrong. Another wave of anger washed over me, this time solely directed at my stupidity. 

If only I had been there for her. 

I wanted to go back inside, to apologize for yelling, to wrap her up in a big hug, and tell her things would work out. But instead, I headed for the Impala. 

 

**Sam's POV**

She looked so battered standing there in the middle of the room, arms at her sides, eyes centered on the gray carpet at her feet. The sound of Dean slamming the door made her flinch, and it only had taken a heartbeat before she burst into torrential tears. It ripped at my heart, willed me to pull her into an embrace. She felt so tiny in my arms, her lithe body leaning into me for support as her legs wobbled and she shook with racking sobs. It felt like she was giving up, ultimately defeated. 

"I'm sorry Sam, so sorry." Her voice cracked with emotion, hard to make out the words between the weeping. I knew she felt like she had let us down but the truth was, I felt like I had let her down.

"No, Y/N, don't be sorry. I should've known you weren't okay after that hunt." I rubbed small circles in the middle of her back, guilt still swelling in my core. I couldn't be selfish; she needed me. What I felt I would deal with later. "I'm sorry you thought you couldn't talk to me."

Her sobbing subsided very gradually, brown eyes lifting to gaze at me. They focused on my jaw at first, traveling across my lips and up to my eyes. They were glassy and red, still blown out from the effects of the drugs, and there was a bleakness hovering over her features. I kept one hand pressed to her lower back, and used the other to wipe at her tear coated cheek tenderly. The sentiment behind the action brought a rosiness to her face. I'd seen her blush before, and each time I found it more endearing. I couldn't stop the upwards twitch of my lips at the sight of her now flustered against my ribs. She stared into my eyes for several more breaths before lowering her gaze and resting her head against my chest. It was then I started to feel a longing for her.

"I wanna get better. I don't wanna do this anymore." Her voice was so weak. I stroked her brown hair, arms tighter than ever around her diminutive frame. 

"Dean and I will help you; you'll get through this. I promise." My lips pressed against the top of her head, the scent of her shampoo filling my nostrils as I sealed my word. I wasn't going to give up on her; she had been with us for too many fights, had patched up too many wounds. 

"He's never gonna trust me again." Her eyes started to flood with the spoken words. "He hates me, Sam."

"He doesn't hate you; my brother just needs some time. You know how Dean is. Y/N, he cares about you. We both care about you." I gave her a light squeeze before she was moving out from my grip to sit down onto the edge of the mattress. She was focusing on the carpet again, toe drawing out circles. 

"I know it's going to be hard, but you can do this. I've seen you in action; I know you're tough, Y/N." Her jaw was clenching, teeth grinding together as a result of the substance in her system and presumably deep thought. It wouldn't be long until it all wore off and wrecked havoc on her. That made me feel incredibly helpless. She didn't say anything, just watched misty-eyed at where her foot was moving.

I slumped down into a chair and ran my hands over my head, smoothing out mahogany strands. I wanted to go out and find Dean, talk to him about getting her into rehab or something but I couldn't bring myself to leave her sitting by herself at a time like this. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel abandoned. Even if she didn't want to talk, I'd sit here in silence with her all night long just to make a point that I was always going to be there for her.


	2. These Arms Of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going through withdrawals, Sam does his best to comfort you.

**Sam's POV**

Y/N 's pacing was driving me crazy. I knew what she felt, the intensity of the cravings and how it beat your sanity into the ground. There wasn't much I could do besides be a presence in the room. I tried to keep myself busy with research, that was really about her rather than the hunt, but I continued to keep her in my sights. I don't know what I was afraid of. Her taking off? Her dropping dead? 

"Maybe you should sit down," I suggested, but that only seemed to agitate her as she practically spat at me. At this point, I didn't blame her for speaking to me in the tones she had so I let it slide right by me. It wasn't her fault, and soon she would be better, back to her usual self. All of this would be a memory soon, a bad one but it would be in the past. That was the point.

I adjusted in the seat, cleared my throat and tried to focus back on the screen, but when I peeked back at her, she was shaking so violently I thought she would fall apart. And she was practically gnawing on her fingers. 

"If you keep chewing your fingers, they're gonna bleed."

She ignored me, still pacing back and forth, shoulders hunched, and her eyes were focusing on something that wasn't there. Whatever she was thinking about, it was consuming her because she wasn't seeing me or hearing me at all. 

"Hey, Y/N," I started, but she spun around to face me, cutting me off with her words.

"I need some air, Sam. I'll be fine, please." Her voice was shaky despite her tremendous effort to feign confidence. She was moving towards the door, and I couldn't let her leave, who knows where she'd go.

With a sigh, I raised and moved to wrap my arms around her. She flinched, ready to get away but seemed to realize she needed to be held as she settled into my chest without a real fight. I held her as tightly as I could like it could fix her suddenly. She was still shaking but trying to fight against it, and it broke my heart to see her struggling so much. I noticed then while she was pressed against my chest, that she had lost a significant amount of weight. I guess I could see it before, but now I could feel it, and she was all bones. Whatever was happening in her head, I wanted to take it away.

'Where the hell is my brother?' I thought. I had heard him take off earlier in the night and he still hadn't come back. I tried calling his phones, but he just let them ring. Now I had two people to worry about: Y/N who was going through the beginnings of withdrawals and was liable to run off and relapse if I left her, and Dean, my big brother who wasn't answering me and could very well be dead. I just had to give him the benefit of the doubt; he was probably at the bar drinking away this night.

My mind was pulled back to the girl in my arms when she invited me to watch a movie with her. I was trying not to smile so hard as I dragged her behind me to the bed, pulling her back to my chest. She felt like she fit there perfectly, and I didn't want to let her go. It didn't seem to bother her because she settled in, smiling for the first time since this all started. 

 

**Your POV**

It took about an hour and a half before you truly started to get antsy. Sam's concerned gaze always seemed to be on you, even when he pretended to be focused on the computer. He was trying to hide it from you, but you still managed to catch a glimpse of the screen, and there were tabs upon tabs on the topic of cocaine. The withdrawals, how to help, even pages of tips on how to spot an addict; the presence of the last tab made you realize Sam felt responsible. That hurdled a pang at you.

At the 2 and a half hour mark, the effects soon faded from your system, slowing taking every bit of everything in you. In its wake, a vexation began to form as you paced back and forth beside the bed, your hands roughly running over your face, your hair, your neck. What were you going to do? Yes, you wanted help. But right now you wanted to get high. This feeling washing over you was too overwhelming, and you needed to get out from under it before it crushed you like an ant. One more time, that's it, that's all you needed.

But how you were going to get to that 'one more time' was another thing entirely. Dean had tossed your stash and slipping out to buy more wouldn't be easy with the giant presence cautious of your every move. There was the possibility of crawling out the bathroom window, but it didn't open all the way, and even your emancipated body couldn't fit through it.

"Maybe you should sit down," Sam broke in. You could hear the genuine interest in your well-being behind what he said, yet his words yet only served to irritate you. 

"I can't sit down, _Sam_." Your voice came out sharper around the edges than you had wanted but it didn't seem to faze the moppy-haired man. In your mind, he didn't get it, not thoroughly. For a passing second, you almost thought of begging him to let you go score. But you were fastened back to reality. He wouldn't let you go. You had to be stupid to think that.

The shakes started to control your frame, jittering you around. You could hardly repress it, you didn't want to look like a junkie in front of Sam, but your body had made other plans. He made a remark, something about chewing your fingers. However, you didn't hear him because you were too busy trying to formulate a plan to escape and meet up with your dealer. A plan to rid yourself of this feeling, this horrible, drowning feeling of emptiness that haunted you.

"Hey Y/N," Sam prompted, and that gave you some courage to make a move.

"I need some air, Sam. I'll be fine, please." You were three steps to the door before the tall man was wrapping you up. At first, you thought of moving away, but the second his limbs folded around you, it became apparent that you needed this. You needed to feel something. It was embarrassing, trembling against him but he didn't seem to mind, only held you tighter. For a spell, you both stood in the middle of the room, encircled against each other. He smelt good, like a fresh shower and you could feel him nuzzling against your hair before resting his chin on the top of your head. It felt nice to be this close to someone, to feel a warmth.

"Can we just, watch a movie or something?" You proposed, and he pulled you back a moment to scan your face before replying.

"Yeah...yeah, absolutely." He was almost grinning, releasing you from his hold to intertwine his fingers with yours and pull you along to one of the beds. You both climbed on, him first, and he pulled you into his chest without a second thought. Yeah, you were still quivering and yeah you still wanted nothing more than another line, but you were snuggled up to Sam, and that was worth a smile.

He noticed your lips turning up and suddenly he was grinning from ear to ear too. You loved the way it looked on the moppy-haired man. After having caused so much anxiety, so much stress, it was nice to see he could smile and that you could too.

Sam flipped through the channels, twice, and the only thing you could find was an old black and white horror movie. "I guess it's Creature from the Black Lagoon," he chortled.

"Fine by me," you shrugged. As long as you had his contact, it served as enough of a distraction. He had never been as close to you for as long as he had before tonight and you welcomed the proximity. 

The movie was already about half way through, typical with cable, but neither of you cared too much. You were too busy listening to the way Sam's heartbeat at such a steady rhythm to care about the movie, but the hunter seemed to be focused on it. The shaking had let up imperceptibly, and the tidal waves of exhaustion crashed over you. It was becoming harder and harder to keep your eyes open. But soon you were drifting off to the gentle sounds of Sam's lungs rising and falling, and the feeling of his hands stroking your hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to comment and leave kudos of you enjoyed it!（*＾3＾）
> 
> (sidenote: I'm absolutely terrified I'm failing so hard, oops)


	3. All Tore Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam are worried, there's a war going on, and you just need to get away from the boys,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed it up a little, sorry!

Sam didn't remember falling asleep. His mind slowly came back to him, and he moved to stretch away hibernation, but the feeling of weight on his chest caused him to stop abruptly, eyes shooting open. It was you, curled up against him, a wet spot on his shirt courtesy of your open and drooling mouth. The sight of you looking quite under, hair splayed everywhere, made his heart flutter. You looked adorable, even as this sleepy mess. With feathery light touches, he brushed some hair away from your face, stopping when you started to stir. You didn't wake, only buried your face deeper into him, a few groans falling from your lips. He stayed remarkably still for a long spell until he was certain you weren't going to wake up if he moved from under you. 

You were out cold because he didn't have much of a problem. He gently lifted your arm and head, gingerly placing them down on the mattress and pillow as he slid off the side of the bed. A stifled groan escaped as he stretched his long arms, and he noticed then that Dean's bed was still empty. A quick glance from between the blinds and Sam's suspicion was confirmed, the Impala wasn't there either. 

He tried his brother's cell phones, and again he didn't answer any of them. With a huff, he sat back down at the two seater table, undecided on what to do next. At first, he opened the laptop, angling the screen away for both privacy and the prevention of your awakening. A search for rehabs brought up a plethora of options, and he read through a good three pages of the search engine options before he started to think about the war going on in the hunter world. Goetic demons had escaped, taking up Legion on Earth and promising to destroy humans. It was everyone's job to fix it, to send them back to hell or worse.

There wasn't much he could do for you while you were sleeping but he could research the goetic demons and their rankings; there was a war happening after all. So he grabbed one of Bobby's untouched books and flipped it open. It wasn't like he fully intended to find a spell, or to even think about connecting with a demon with the sole purpose of fixing you. But Buer's name and what he did written in big bold letters caught his attention. 

It was stupid, and he'd never actually do it. Or maybe he would. Sam hadn't decided. If his brother had wanted to do something like this, Sam would be losing his mind. Why was it all of a sudden okay for him to consider it? 

Because it was you. The one who had spent countless nights saving them, patching up wounds, making coffee. The one who continued to be the rock despite your deteriorating state.

He heard tires on gravel and knew then that Dean was back so he slid the book away and brought the laptop back to sit in front of him where he could pretend just to be looking at rehab options. 

 

\-----------

 

Dean was moving as slowly and quietly as he could, confident he would wake you and his brother up. But when he got in and closed the door, you were the only one sleeping. 

"Hey," Sam tossed over his shoulder, eyes still intent on the screen. 

"How is she?" Dean whispered, taking off his jacket and boots. Even in the dark, he could see you splayed out on the bed. 

"As good as she can be I guess. She's been sleeping for awhile, but it got rough earlier." Sam sighed. "According to the internet, it should take about two weeks for her to get it out of her system but these withdrawals are gonna be bad. I think we only scratched the surface tonight."

It was Dean's turn to sigh, a hand coming up to wipe his mouth. He didn't have time to say anything because Sam was moving in to pick a fight.

"Where were you tonight, Dean? I tried calling you like a hundred times." 

"I was looking into some things."

Sam scoffed. "I can smell the bar on you from here."

"You know what, Sam? You don't have a right to judge me."

Dean's eyes floated from his brother to the table. Next to the glowing laptop was a dusty volume, probably one of Bobby's old books, and it was open. His keen eyes could tell from where he stood that it wasn't open to anything good.

"What is that?" Dean stalked closer to Sam and the book, provocation dousing his face. 

Sam quickly closed the dusty volume, keeping his massive hands on it as if the action obscured it. "It's nothing, Dean. Just a book on the demons we're fighting." But Sam knew his brother had noticed, and he was clenching his jaw, anticipating the freak-out.

"Tell me that wasn't a spell that I just saw." The older brother pointed a finger and then reached for the book. The hunters struggled for a minute, Sam refusing to let go and Dean declining to back down. Finally, the younger brother gave up, ready to just get this over with.

Dean flipped it open to the page he'd seen and his face furrowed. "A demon? Are you friggin' kidding me?" His voice was fixed in a harsh whisper, not wanting to wake you up. "You were gonna make a deal with a demon?" He had hoped when he picked the book up that it really was nothing. 

"He heals people, Dean!" Sam's voice cracked above a whisper. He took a deep breath to try and bring himself back down before you woke up. "You weren't the one sitting here with her while her entire body shook. Did you hold her while she cried and completely gave up? Dean, I saw the look in her eyes, it was like everything in her had died. Where were you, huh? At a bar, big surprise. Excuse me for wanting to ease her suffering." The real truth that he hadn't been looking for Buer remained a secret.

Dean stood tense for a moment, a mixture of emotions dancing across his expression before he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of rehab brochures. He slapped them hard against Sam's chest, who was instantly reaching to grab the glossy papers. The tall hunter turned the pages over in his hands, feeling a passing moment of guilt for laying it on his brother a second ago.

"We're gonna send her to rehab like normal friggin' people, Sam. We're gonna put her in rehab, send her to NA, whatever we gotta do. And she's gonna get better. Then we can have her back in the family business. But we're not summoning demons, especially not the ones we're fighting a war with, to heal Y/N. You understand me?" Dean's voice was gruff; his green hues were burrowing into his brother, emphasizing a point that he hoped Sam took to heart.

"Yeah. Look --" Sam started, and Dean held a hand up to cut him off.

"Save it, Sammy. Let's just get some shut eye." Dean moved to the bed, plopping down hard on his stomach. He was out within minutes. 

\-----------

 

You had woken up somewhere in the middle of their conversation but wanting to hear the rest, you stayed still and pretended to be sleeping. Neither of them noticed.

Sam was going to summon a demon to heal you. 

You weren't sure how to feel. It upset you on so many levels because you didn't need help, and Sam knew better than to try and deal with demons -- especially the ones you were at war with. But it also made you feel an incredible amount of love from them, they cared.

Dean wanted to send you to rehab.

That made you cringe. Especially Dean's use of normal. You were the furthest thing from. You're a hunter. You can't be locked away singing kumbaya and painting flowers. By the time Dean had announced he was going to bed, your mind was swimming. The cravings hit again, worse than before and now you had these boys worried sick over you.

Maybe you weren't thinking too clearly when you made the decision to leave. Sam had finally come back to bed. You could tell he wanted to cuddle you against him again but was afraid to wake you. Dean was already in REM. You waited and waited until Sam was undoubtedly under and that's when you quietly slipped off the bed. It made a creak, and you shot stark straight, breath hitched, waiting for either of them to open an eye.

But they didn't. So you crept across the floor, slipped on your boots, and grabbed the ancient book before bolting from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to comment and leave kudos of you enjoyed it!（*＾3＾）


	4. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys wake up and see Y/N's taken off. Dean knows exactly who to question but when they get the answers they're looking for, is it going to be enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long. I got away from writing for multiple reasons and I feel rusty getting back into it. Sorry for the crap quality! <3
> 
> Also, home is going to be fun heh heh heh

The night air was sharp against your cheeks. You debated on going back to the hotel and stealing the keys for Baby, but you knew Dean would have your head. Stealing a car was a possibility but that would only draw more suspicion to you. Instead, you opted to walk back into the middle of town while sticking to shadows; book clung to your chest. You needed a fix, as much as you wanted to quit, you needed a line to get you through this night. Just one more night, you told yourself.

You fished your phone out of the jacket pocket, making a quick call to the guy you had met in this town to set up something. He agreed to meet you at a house near the gas 'n sip. And for the first time tonight, you felt a little relieved.

As you walked, you replayed the conversation between Dean and Sam. Did that stupid moose actual consider summoning a demon? Hadn't he learned his lesson when it came to making deals? Still, you had to admit; it sounded better than Dean's solution. Yeah, maybe ten years down the road, you'd be torn to shreds by hellhounds, but it would be a quick solution to all your problems at the start. And you're a hunter, so Lord knows, with everything you kill, there's a chance of dying in 10 years deal with a demon or not. 

You pushed Dean's brotherly voice out of your head as you came nearer to the house and place of meeting. It was a run down little place, leaning to the side even. One wall of it even had graffiti. You rolled your eyes at the stereotype before quietly rapping on the door. 

He took forever to open the wooden slab. It always feels like forever though when you're doing something illegal. Your eyes bounced around the still dark environment, scanning the street for cops mostly but also for the brothers -- they'd be worse to deal with than police.

The man on the other side of the door cracked it open. "What? Oh, come in." As soon as he saw your face, he knew. You wasted no time in entering. 

"I just need a quick fix, I'm gettin' the hell out of dodge." You moved to sit on the stained, lopsided couch. The coffee table in front of it was littered with various drugs and paraphernalia. The lighting in the room was yellow from cheap lightbulbs, coating everything in a jaundiced glow.

"Where ya going?" The man shouted from another room. He didn't care per say, just making conversation. 

"Home." You answered. That was the truth. Not the whole truth but most of it. 

"What's with the freaky book?" The drug dealer questioned, sights cast to the volume you clutched with one arm. He plopped down next to you after coming back from another room and started weighing out your bag. 

You looked down at it, then shrugged casually. "Just some light reading." Your lips curled in a fake smile, just enough to seem innocent.

"Looks pretty big to be light reading." He replied with a laugh, sealing the baggy before tossing it over to you. You threw what little money you had left down on the table.

"I read fast." Grabbing the baggy from him, you cleared some space on the board and dumped out a small rock. Better to get a line in now as opposed to on the road or in public. You crushed it up, made it straight and then snorted the white powder. The dealer joined you, taking some his stash then the pair of you just sniffed and felt the rush.

A few heartbeats of silence went by.

"So what's your book about?" The dealer questioned. You were getting sick of this topic so you stood to leave. Telling him it was about demons that were very real was not on the table. This was not a conversation you wanted to have.

"It's just a history book, dude." Tucking the baggy in your bra, you started to move toward the door. "Thanks again bud." 

 

**

The curtains were slightly propped open, a few of the blinds tilted just right so light trickled in and picked at Dean's eyes. He slowly pried his lids open with a groan, head turning to look at Sam who was still passed out. It was surprising, Sam was usually the first one up.

It was then he noticed you weren't beside him. Or on the couch. The bathroom door was wide open too. Your jacket didn't hang over the chair, and when he scooted off the bed, he noticed your boots weren't there either.

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, waking his brother from the dead of sleep. The brown, moppy haired hunter jolted awake, unsure of what was happening. "She's gone, Sam." He added, emphasis on gone and Sam.

Slumber instantly drained from Sam's body, and a sudden urgency filled its spot. He was out of bed, running his hand through his brown locks. Dean peeked outside to see Baby in her place and was relieved to see you at least left that there. 

"Where do you think she went?" Sam said, worry sandwiching his words.

"Where do you think?" Dean scoffed. "She prob --"

"The book's gone, Dean." Sam cut his brother off, his eyes fixated on the table where the book once sat. All the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place with both of the brothers. Sam felt sick to his stomach, he couldn't handle the notion of something happening to you. Whether it was at the hands of addiction or demon, bad things happening to you made his insides ache. 

"Son of a bitch!" Dean growled, swiping the keys from the counter in one fell swoop and whirling out the door like a tornado. Sam was quick to follow, jacket barely clinging to his arms as he shut the motel door behind him.

"Dean! Where are you going? We don't know where she is! What if she comes back." Sam shouted, his long legs catching up rather quickly. His brother was already one foot in the car by the time Sam was opening the passenger's side.

"I'm going to look for her." His voice was dark, eyes matching. " I have an idea of who to ask."

*****

It all clicked. Dean remembered seeing the face, remembered seeing you talking to him the first night they were there. He stormed into the diner where he had recalled last seeing the man and when Dean didn't spot you or the scum, he thundered up to the waitress behind the counter. She was startled but managed to compose herself quickly, tossing her sights over his shoulder to see Sam with his brows knitted in concern

"Have you seen a suspicious looking dude, about yay high," He held his hand about the same height as himself. "Hat to the side, pants at his ankles. Looks like he might sell drugs."

The waitress' countenance mellowed out. "Uh, yeah. I think you mean Justin. He comes 'round here tons. He in some sorta trouble?"

Sam paced closer, still speaking over Dean's head and completely ignoring her question. "Was he here tonight? Did he come around here with a girl?"

There was a slight panic to Sam's voice that seemed to worry the waitress; her name tag read Danielle. "Nope, sorry hon. Justin hasn't been 'round today."

"Do you know where we could find him?" Dean's eyes never left her face, his jaw tight and clenched.

She opened her mouth to say something but then abruptly stopped, eyeing up the brothers suspiciously. "You guys ain't gonna hurt him right? He's a good kid, got his issues, but he's good, trying to get his life straight even."

"No, we're not gonna hurt him. We just need to find our friend, and we think he may have been the last person to see her." Sam informed, his voice soft but demanding of information.

She seemed to be satisfied with this, her shoulders lowering in defeat. "He's got a house out on Willow St, next to the Gas 'n Sip."

As soon as she uttered the words, Dean was whirling around Sam and out the door. The taller hunter gave an apologetic nod and a thin-lipped smile to Danielle, the waitress, before turning and following his brother.

****

"Where is she?" Dean roared. With his fists full of the man's collar, he slammed Justin back into the wall. This action elicited a painful groan that echoed around the dirty house. Dean was in the guy's face, eyes darkened with rage and burrowing into the poor soul, expecting answers and not hesitant to beat it out of him. Sam wasn't too far away, watching with just as much anger but making sure his brother didn't kill the man before they got answers. Justin had just woken up, despite it being 4 in the afternoon. The man wasn't even awake 5 minutes before he was getting a full-fledged beating. 

Dean cocked back his fist again, ready to land another hard blow to Justin's face but stopped when the guy started pleading. 

"I don't know, I swear I don't know! She came, got some stuff from me. Was carrying around some weird book, and left." Justin begged for mercy, and though he wasn't telling the truth entirely, he hoped they would buy it anyway.

Dean let his fist fly into the guy's jaw one more time for good measure before releasing him. The beaten man doubled over, coughing up blood that had dripped into his throat from the broken nose Dean had generously given him. It hurt to breath indicating that a rib was more than likely shattered. Justin thought about making a run for it while he was still alive, but both brothers could read his thoughts. They weren't done with him, so they puffed up and blocked the possible escape routes. Justin shrank against the wall, clutching at his face.

"Where did she say she was going?" Sam was nearly growling at Justin.

"Man, I don't know." Justin stuttered out, his nerves frayed at all the edges.

Dean stepped closer to Justin; his shoulders squared in a menacing stance. He wore the kind of countenance that looked like he'd murdered before and would absolutely do it again in a heartbeat. Justin winced at the thought of any more strikes -- with his nose and ribs shattered; he didn't like the idea of it going further. 

Justin breathed out a vexed sigh, jittery hands flying up in defeat. "She said she was going home. I don't know what that means or where home is, I swear to god, but that's what she said." He shrunk away like a coward, blood pouring from his nose in streams. 

Sam and Dean made immediate eye contact. They knew what that meant. It wasn't good. All they could do was hope they got to you in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to comment and leave kudos of you enjoyed it!（*＾3＾）


	5. Born to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You head out on the road and finally make it home. The Winchesters are chasing you, crossing their fingers and toes that you won't do anything stupid. But you're already half way there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I have 2 more chapters of this partially written that should be up soon to make up for my lack of activity. And a new chapter of The Days of Why and How, as well as The Wutong Clan and a whole new fic. Sorry again guys, please still love me?
> 
> Also if this is terrible go ahead and shoot me. I fudged the timing a little bit so let's just pretend everything is a-okay. 
> 
> I'm lowkey terrified to post this in case I get crap. Okay bye enjoy.

 

Everything was barely covered in darkness by the time you departed the drug den. It was just a smooth blanket of breaking dawn, the sun inching up and over the horizon at its usual pace. On your way out, you swiped Justin's keys, easily taking the Jetta off his hands. Yeah, you probably could've stolen a car further down the road or somewhere less obvious but Justin wasn't about to involve the cops and that was worth the potential risk. Besides with his keys, you could just get in and go.

It wasn't long before the edge started to thin, but you forced yourself to ride it out a little longer. Every bit of you was freaking out. Your insides were wringing themselves and twisting into all kinds of knots. If you didn't make it at least two cities ahead before the Winchesters woke up, your plan was all for naught and you'd surely be shoved into rehab or abandoned altogether. And as your wheels turned, and trees whipped by the windows, you realized that for the first time since your parents died, you were afraid of being alone.

After the ghosts murdered your parents, your skin had grown thick and calloused, your independence and trust in yourself were all you had left in this world. The brothers helped you rid the house of them but all you could do was run away. You became a hunter after knowing what you did and everything was kosher. Then you bumped into the stupid brothers again and realized everything you assumed you never wanted back, turned out to be the exact things you needed. Going back to being alone made your heart hurt, you needed them around. Even now as you were running away from them to beat your sickness and take out one of the leaders of this war, you were afraid of being alone.

But it was necessary. Sam might have been more understanding but Dean wouldn't have allowed this to happen. And it needed to happen. You couldn't quit on your own, and rehab was out of the question. So, a demon who could cure you? Yeah, that seemed like the best idea.

You were going to kill him as soon as you were healed.

Then you'd be redeemed for all the antics and could go back to hunting normally.

Hopefully.

You knew it would take awhile for them to trust you again, but your intentions were good. You just prayed they could see that.

  
\-----

"If you see her, give us a call. Thanks." Dean was pacing up to Sam, ending a call as he reached the side of Baby. Sam was gassing her up, the back seat full of snacks he had retrieved for their road trip. They probably weren't going to stop too often. Neither of them had said it but it was a silent understanding because they didn't have time to waste.

"No word?" Sam asked as he headed for the passenger's seat. Dean was quickly taking his spot behind the wheel, almost impatiently.

"No." Dean's voice was rough. He was worried sick though he kept a hard-hearted exterior. You were important to him, maybe not in the same way Sam felt but you were still family. He started up the Impala as soon as the tall brother was situated and hastily took off in the direction of your home.

Sam was afraid. He tried to keep his jaw tight and his eyes focused on the passing trees to hide his anxiety from Dean. His brother could read him like a book anyway, he knew exactly what he was thinking. Sam was scared of losing you, that you were hurt and he felt guilty like if he had done something differently, none of this would've happened.

"It's not your fault, Sam." Dean broke the silence. "She made her own decision to leave. She's a big girl."

Sam's jaw flexed before he uttered anything. "But it is my fault, I should've stayed up to keep an eye on her. I should've known something sooner, and told her to talk to me. And now we're chasing her down, hoping she's not getting herself ki--"

"Don't say that," Dean gruffly interrupted. "Don't even think it. We're gonna get (Y/N) back safe."

"But Dean, it's the truth!" Sam's voice was raising. "She's high on drugs, and she has a book of how to summon demons. More specifically, a demon that she thinks can cure her but will more than likely -- ."

Dean turned up the music to drown out his brother and Sam just huffed incredulously before turning back to the passenger window.

Born to Run played loudly throughout the Impala and both brothers went back to their heads, each silently beating themselves up with every wheel rotation. What if's played on in their minds, tightening their stomachs. Dean pressed his foot just a little more on the gas, roaring over the speed limit as the car continued to fill with an exigency to get you back.

\------

You only stopped a handful of times to renew your buzz, fill up the Jetta and once to grab necessary ingredients to summon Buer -- which thankfully were all pretty common. So far, no sign of the Winchesters and even though you were supposed to be happy about that, there was still a hint of disappointment. What if they weren't even looking? What if when they woke up and saw you gone, they just let you go. You were a burden, why would they chase you down?

That was crushing to think about. And it was all so conflicting too, this whole stay away but come here notion. What the hell did you want from them? You pushed the thoughts to the back recesses of your mind, daring not to think about the brother's whereabouts. You just needed to get home first to start and hopefully finish the plan.

When you hit dirt roads is when you knew you were close. The car whizzed by familiar farm houses, mail boxes, and dirt driveways until the two-story family home finally came into view. It was just as beaten up as you remembered with its stained yellow siding and the window panels that barely hung on. Everything in the garden had wilted with no one to care for it, and there were signs of vandalism. You understood the want to break in, that house did have a reputation for being haunted. Except any ghost hunters were too late, the Winchesters had cleared that house of spirits years ago -- _after_ the damned creatures butchered your parents.

The sedan came to a slow stop, dirt and gravel crunching beneath the tires. You glanced in the rearview mirror, the brothers weren't here yet. If they were even coming. It was that moment you started to feel anxiety creeping over your being. This was about the happen, the plan, the cure. There was a hesitation in your bones. The notion of being back at home where you parents had died was lingering at the forefront of your brain making you regret coming here in the first place. And was this a stupid plan anyway? No, you had the angel blade on your person still and that would definitely kill Buer. Right?

It took a several minutes before you were finally ready to face this head on. With a deep breath, you swung open the car door exited into the brisk evening air with the bag of ingredients and book that would call Buer to the house.

The front porch creaked as you climbed it, threatening to buckle under each step. You stood at the front door, lingering for a heartbeat. And when you finally crossed the threshold, the smell of mold and rot hit you. As you slowly walked through, you realized the place was falling apart and that kind of split you. You had good memories here despite everything. Some stupid kids had spray painted '666' on one of the family room walls, and one of the tall, old china cabinets had been knocked over, glass spilling out all over the carpeted room.

Nothing remained untouched by dust and grime. It was no longer a home, merely a building that barely stood straight. You thought about heading up to your old room, but there was nothing of use in there, just memories that you didn't care to revisit. Instead, you headed through the kitchen and out the back door to your dad's shed. It was still padlocked meaning no one had bothered to try and get inside. You groaned, pulled the lockpick out of the inside pocket of your jacket and got down to pick it-- breaking it might have been faster had all the tools not been locked inside. There was a sense of urgency that started to come up, you had to get this show on the road. And as soon as you were done with the shed, you needed a line. The familiar noise of unlocking mechanisms indicated that you were in.

The diminutive building was a dark place with barely enough light coming through a small window to illuminate the industrial shelves, red tool boxes, and steel workbench. Brushing by the table that now stood untouched, you headed for the shelves where there were several cans of spray paint. They were of varying colors but would be perfect to devil trap the hell out of the house. Whirling out of there, you headed back to the worn out house and remembered where your dad kept his gun. That might be useful. And when you managed to retrieve that too with several rounds of bullets, you dumped everything on the dusty couch in the family room and wiped your hands clean.

"Alright, let's do this."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, feel free to leave kudos and or comments :)
> 
> Also, if anyone is going to SPN Torcon please hmu. I'm going alone :'(


	6. The Stupid Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You summon Buer. But will everything go according to plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence, blood, swearing.

Looking around at the place after you had tagged every wall, door, ceiling and floor with sigils to keep Buer in and other demons out, you were proud. It was a damned masterpiece and if the brothers were here, they'd be proud. You even salted every window just to be extra sure.

You had dragged the loosely standing wooden table and a chair that matched from the dining room to the family room. On the wooden slab, you placed a bowl, brass and large enough to house all the ingredients. And then every iron weapon you could find in the house, the gun with 2 devil trap marked bullets, and the angel blade. There was every intention of torturing Buer until he was begging to cure you. After doing another bump, and then another, you were almost ready to begin.

\--------------

The house was eerily silent. The last remaining ingredient lay clutched between your fingers and palm and you took one last look at the devil's traps plastered all the wood floors and wallpapered walls over before you tossed it in. The essence in the brass bowl started to sizzle and spit, smoke snaking into the air.

"Erato on ca Buer anon."

There was an almost instant flash of fire, haze enveloping the room. You sheltered your eyes from it, unable to hold back a cough as the smoke poked at your lungs. When it subsided, there was a tall man with piercing blue eyes standing in the middle of the room. He had black, slicked back hair, an olive complexion, and a sharp jaw covered in light stubble. Had he not been a demon, you might have found him attractive -- lord knows he was. He had a sort of charmingly evil vibe to him, it unsettled you.

"This better be good, sweetheart." He gave you a pestered once over before looking down at his feet and up towards the ceiling, devils traps on both ends. On the door and walls too. He pursed his lips, unamused but not shaken. Buer was absolutely confident that he, being the leader of an army of demons who worshiped the ground he walked on, was not going to die today. Not by the hand of some pathetic hunter.

You observed him from your spot behind the table, hand at the ready to grab any weapon required. He was making mental notes and you could read them clear as day. "Don't even think about it. This whole place is on lock down."

"So I can see." He replied with little enthusiasm.

"Why don't you have a seat?" You gestured to the chair behind him, your expression steely, a sheer determination coating you from head to toe. He ignored you, choosing to instead focus his energies on straightening the suit jacket and adjusting its sleeves. His conviction and the way he disregarded your presence, irked you.

"I said, sit down." You reached for the revolver sitting on the old wooden table in front of you, swinging the barrel up to rest its sights between Buer's eyes.

A yawn escaped him, he was hardly troubled. "Really? A gun? Even if that thing is loaded with rock salt, you'll never kill me."

There was no hesitation left in your actions, you pulled the trigger, a marked bullet flying directly between his wicked black eyes. He hollered before falling back into the chair. "What the fuck was that?"

"Just a little trick I learned from some brothers. Worked on one of your knights once." A devil trap bullet, who would've thunk. But it worked, and unquestionably sealed him in place, no way to snake out of the meat suit now. Moving quickly before he fought back, you chained his arms and legs, all the iron etched with sigils. No chances were being taken, you learned to be extra careful long ago.

Buer was cross eyed, watching the blood drip down his nose. He caught the droplet with his tongue, seemingly savored it, and then focused his eyes back on you. "You're not very hospitable, ya know?"

"Woe is me." You rolled your eyes.

"Maybe you could get me a drink or something, pussycat." He tested.

"How about some holy water?" You impudently replied.

Buer clicked his tongue at you and turned his head in distaste. All he had to do was bide his time and someone or someones would come to his rescue. You watched as something lit up behind the demon's eyes, something in his brain clicked and he turned to stare you -- it made you uncomfortable.

"You're sick. Not like cancer sick, but I can taste it, you're dying on the inside." His words caught you off guard, turned your stomach. Buer was smiling wickedly knowing he had that effect on you, his words were gutting you -- god, you were too easy, he hardly said anything at all. And you called yourself a hunter, he was practically rolling his eyes.

"You're sick in here," he strained to tap his head with his finger to prove a point but was only able to make it half way with all the chains holding him down.

"Shut up!" His words were disgusting because they were true. You stormed closer and hit the revolver clean across his face in retaliation. Spittle and blood flew off to the side but he just laughed as his head hung loosely against his shoulder.

"That's why you summoned me huh? To cure you, take away the mess. Well, I don't heal crazy, pussycat." Buer's black eyes slowly lifted to meet with yours, lips twisting upwards.

"That's not true, demons lie." The words were mostly for yourself, a reminder to have hope.

Buer tilted his head and looked you over. "Even if --if -- I could heal you, what's in it for me?"

"How about a quick death." You sassed back.

He laughed, a hearty but wicked laugh. God, it made your skin crawl. Buer gave a wide smile, all gleaming teeth."I can't wait to hear you scream when I cut each of your organs out while you're still alive."

"We'll see about that."

\----  
Hours had passed and Buer still refused to give in. He loved watching you suffer so much that he endured every bit of pain you unleashed upon him with a smile. The stash was running low which Buer took every opportunity to remind you off and you wondered how much longer you could do this.

In the time that you had first left the motel, you hadn't thought to check your phone, not even once. Taking a break from torturing Buer, you wiped your red stained hands on a towel and decidedly turned on your cell.

Notification after notification rang out. Texts from Sam saying how worried it was. And from Dean who was begging you to not do whatever it was you were doing. Even some from other hunters who were curious about your whereabouts. Your voicemail was full too, probably all from the brothers. Without even listening to them, you knew exactly what they were saying.

Buer was smirking before the sound of tires in gravel rung out to indicate there were visitors.He looked at you, a slight panic to your features and tilted his head. "Oh, pussycat, you didn't think that they wouldn't notice their general was gone, did you?"

Practically jogging to the window, you peeked out. Three cars and a truck, all filled with demons. Dread started creeping up from the depths, consuming you. How the fuck were you gonna handle that many of them, _and_ Buer? It wasn't until you saw one of them grab a shotgun from the truck that you really started to panic. They were smart, they knew the place would be covered in traps and a shotgun could definitely break one.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You cursed, running to the table to grab the angel blade and back into the hallway by the door, ready to fight. There was no way you'd roll over that easy. Buer was laughing from the next room. _I should text Sam or Dean or friggin' someone._

The porch made familiar creaking noises and then suddenly the door was flying off its hinges. The demon with the shotgun shot the traps in front of him, ceiling and floor, clearing a path for himself and the rest of the lackeys. One of them lunged at you, and you side stepped, grabbing him by the head and slamming his face into your knee. He stumbled backward and then another took his place. Expertly, the angel blade pierced between her ribs and she screamed as all her orifices shone red. The demon with the shotgun seemed unconcerned with you, he let the others take turns trying to jump at you. Shotgun just made his way to where Buer was, clearing the way.

Demons had you pinned, you fought back but with so many coming at you, it was impossible to keep up. All you could think about was how you were going to die and you never got to tell Dean and Sam thank you for caring so much, for helping you along the way. With no way out, or way to get to Buer to stop him from escaping, you watched in horror as Shotgun did the inevitable. He shot the trap above and below, effectively breaking them and allowing 2 demons to move in. They handled the iron around Buer's wrists and ankles with relative ease.

As soon as the two demons unshackled him, he was prying the bullet from between his eyes out. It barely hurt, just enough to send a fleeting wince across his features. When it was finally out, he licked the blood from it before dropping the casing to the floor.

"Leave her for me." He coldly instructed and all the demons moved out of the way.

"Screw you," you spat at him as he paced closer.

He threw a fist directly into your jaw, causing you to stumble back from the unanticipated punch. Again, he struck, this time splitting your lip. Buer wasn't smiling, he looked cold and calculated. The rest of his army stood and watched as you tried to fight back but Buer flicked his wrist and flung your ragdoll body into the wall that buckled underneath the force. He twisted his fingers in the air, breaking the wrist of the hand that held the blade and it fell to the floor with a clatter as you cried out in pain.

"You son of a bitch, I swear to god, if you kill me, the Winchesters will hunt you down and kill your entire army." You blustered.

Buer's lips ghosted upward as he retrieved the blade from the floor. "Oh, I encourage them to find me. Then I can kill them too." He examined the tip of the angel blade before plunging it into your stomach. A scream so loud and piercing erupted from you, shaking the walls of the house. The pain was searing, it felt like you had been set on fire. Tears pricked at your eyes and another yell fell from your tongue as Buer pulled the blade out. You tried to fight, to get off that wall but he had you pinned with no hope of escape. Again, he plunged the knife in, again, and again each time leaving you crying out in absolute agony. This kind of pain had never been felt before, you could feel death creeping up on you as your body burned white hot. Your vision was fading around the edges and it felt like the darkness could just reach up and drag you down any second. Buer slid the blade between your ribs one last time and watched as your head slipped forward, defeated and dying. He finally let you go but you were too weak to do anything. You slumped to the floor, face first into the pool of blood Buer kindly left behind.

"See ya in hell, pussycat." Without another moment's hesitation, the meat suit's jaw wretched open and he snaked out in a plume of black smog, quickly darting out the door and out of sight. The body thumped to the floor, next to you, eyes wide and glazed. The other demons ran after, leaving you choking on your own blood with an angel blade stuck in your stomach.

It was a stupid plan, so stupid. You wished to god you just went rehab now, that you would've stayed with the brothers. What in the world made you think you could've handled this alone? Yea, you were competent but Buer was stronger than anything you've ever fought. This plan was so incredibly stupid.

And now you were going to die.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked, please leave me a comment/kudos. I really appreciate the encouragement because I'm needy and insecure.


	7. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam find you in rough shape, can they save you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood and death

"(Y/N)?" Sam called out as stepped past the broken door. Glancing about he saw devils traps everywhere and knew nothing good had taken place here. He was hoping with his entire being that you were okay though, that nothing had happened to you. And also that you were even here so they didn't have to continue chasing you down.

Both brothers clutched their guns that they decidedly retrieved when they realized that something didn't feel right. They kept them low as they entered the front hallway, eyes assessing their surroundings.

"Smell that?" Dean questioned and both their stomachs sank as they realized. Sulfur. In that split second, light coughs echoed to them.

"(Y/N)!" Dean bolted in the direction of the sound. Sam was only a hair behind and when his eyes fell on you, his heart broke. His worst nightmare was coming true and it felt like the house was crushing him.

You coughed again, suffocating in your own blood as you lay there gutted. Sam's eyes were stinging at the sight of your limp frame still grasping to life as it slipped through your fingers.

"Stay with me, (Y/N)!" Dean begged as he slid on his knees to you. He scooped you up delicately, examining your wounds. They were deep and fresh, and your breathing was so shallow at times he almost thought you were dead. His brother was behind him, clutching his head, gun still in one hand. Panic coated the room "She's dying, we need to get her to a hospital!" He reached into his jacket pocket and then tossed the ring of keys to Sam. "You drive."

Sam was already racing out of the door to start Baby when Dean lifted you from the crimson puddle. God, you looked so rough. What had happened? He was aching for you and your state, and for the state he and his brother were going to be in if you didn't make it. "Hey, hey (Y/N), stay with me. Don't go to sleep." The bowlegged hunter gently bounced you in his arms to get you to respond.

With tremendous effort, you opened your eyes. Though they were not open fully, just small slits to show the hunter you were still in this world -- that you were trying your best. "Dee," you slurred, unable to finish his whole name with your deflated lungs. The pitiful sound was wet and raspy and full of misery. It cracked Dean's insides that you had to struggle so hard just to say one word.

"Yea, (Y/N) just stay awake for me and Sammy okay?" He hurriedly carried you out of the house and slid you into the back seat of Baby, climbing in after you. Your head rest in his lap where he could comfortably see your eyes.

"Is she okay?" Sam fretted as he raced down the driveway and out onto the street.

"She's hangin' on as best can but she's in real rough shape. I'll make sure she doesn't close her eyes, you worry about driving." Dean instructed. He looked down to see you trying to shut your lids again and he tapped your cheek. "No, no, you gotta keep them open."

The smell of blood and sulfur lingered in their nostrils as they raced down the highway, way above the speed limit. Dean probably would've been concerned about Sam driving on a normal day but he wanted to sit with you, to make sure you stayed with them. He knew damn well Sam wouldn't take losing you very well, and hell, Dean didn't want you to die either.

It took more energy than you had to keep from falling into a pit of blackness. Sleeping was so inviting, it was comfortable and warm and you didn't want to fight anymore. You wanted to slip away into that abyss and enjoy the peaceful feeling the darkness brought. It hurt to breathe, to exist. But every time your eyes felt heavy and started to shut, Dean would smack you and he wasn't shy with the force.

"(Y/N), just fight for us okay. We're almost there." Sam called out, his eyes red and voice thick with emotion. He stepped on the gas, maxing the car out at its limits.

"You're gonna be okay, we're gonna get you healed up." Dean's voice was low and rough as he stroked your hair and did would he could to make you comfortable. Sam peered back once and felt a pang of jealousy though it was unnecessary. Dean thought of you as a sister, Sam loved you as more. There was a clear difference.

Between trying to keep you awake and breathing, and trying not to crash, they thought about what had happened. Sam was mentally going over everything he saw at the scene; the traps, the shotgun marks, the chair, the shackles, the bowl. He could see it being played out. Dean was in the back seat doing the same thing, piecing everything together.  
  
The heavy blanket of death was slowly suffocating you. A sputtering cough erupted from you and that was it, you slipped away into the darkness so suddenly that you didn't have any anticipation of fighting it.

"(Y/N)?" Dean slapped your face harder than before, gave your body a shake. But you didn't wake up, you just felt heavier in his arms. "No, (Y/N)! Drive faster Sam!"

"I'm going as fast as I can, Dean!" Sam shot back at his brother. It was sickening how helpless he felt, there wasn't anything he could do to resolve this situation.

It was in record time that they made it to the hospital. Sam flew the car up to the emergency entrance and Dean wasted no time in dragging you out of the back seat, carrying your limp body through the hospital doors.

"A little help here!" He bellowed out and several nurses hastened to him. One brought a bed, and with Dean's help, placed you on it. Another nurse stepped in front of the blond haired hunter, keeping him from getting to you much to his disapproval. Sam came running in on long legs, peering over the tops of the nurses to see you, still not responding. Scrubbed women and men rushed in bringing machines and wheeling you down the hall way all in one fell swoop, leaving the brothers behind in a whirlwind of frenzy and panic.

They watched as you disappeared down the hallway, both terrified that you might not be coming back to them. Sam was fisting his hair, Dean was pacing.

"The waiting room is to your left. We'll do everything we can to save her. There's some paperwork to be done, you can pick it up at that desk there." A nurse with tied back red hair and blue scrubs spoke gently and gestured to the areas mentioned. Dean stormed off to the counter to grab the forms from another nurse, an older lady with a graying bun. Sam lingered behind a second before following, plopping himself in a chair and running a hand over his face.

 _It's my fault,_ he thought. _Everything is my fault, I should've saved her._ Sam was practically kicking himself as he sat there with his hand over his frowning mouth.

Dean sat down next to his brother and got to work filling out the form. He wanted to comfort Sam but he just didn't know how at the moment -- it wasn't something he was capable of because he was freaking out too. What he wanted most in this world right now, was for you to make it and come back to the family business.  The two of them didn't talk, instead focusing their energies on worrying about you, and beating themselves up for all the what ifs, and the would'ves and the could'ves. 

Hours had passed and there were no signs of your recovery. No doctors or nurses had come to tell them that things were looking up and with every passing second, they felt less and less hope. Sitting there in the waiting room, they looked like they'd been to hell and back. Dean was still covered in your blood, and both brothers had red rims around their eyes from both the tears and exhaustion. This whole thing was weighing down on both of them, crushing their hearts beneath the guilt.

It wasn't until five long hours later that a doctor finally came out to meet him.

"What's the word Doc? Tell me she's gonna be okay." Dean asked first.

"Well, she's not completely out of the woods. She's out of surgery and in ICU. She's on heavy sedation so she won't be awake anytime soon. Her injuries were bad but we did what we could. Now it's all up to her." The doctor laid out all the information for the brothers and they shared a glance.

"Can we see her?" Sam asked, eyes misty.

"Yes, but like I said, gentlemen, she's under." The doctor reminded. "Room 427 in ICU."

"Thank you so much," Sam gave a grateful nod before following his already moving brother to the elevator. Neither were prepared for seeing you on a hospital bed with tubes every which way but they both needed to be there for you.

And this time, neither were letting you out of their sights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you like please leave a comment and tell me because who doesn't love love?


	8. Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in the middle of a hospital hallway, you realize that you're in fact dying.

You woke up with such suddenness, gasping for air like you had been holding your breath for hours. It took a moment for you to realize you were standing in the middle of a hospital. It looked like one anyway with its long sterile hallways, rushing nurses and many doors that lead to rooms with curtains and beds and patients. Looking down at yourself, you realized that you were in a gown and barefoot. What were you doing at the hospital? It was like a fog had formed over your memories, it was hard to see into them.

"Um," you tried to get the attention of a nurse that swept by you without so much as an ounce of acknowledgment. _Rude_ , you thought. "Excuse me," you tried again and still nothing. 

"They can't see you," a female voice sounded from behind causing you to whip around to find the source.

"Pardon me?" You asked, perplexed entirely. Had you heard the voice right?

"We're dying." The girl that spoke was a thin teen in a hospital gown, tall for her age and sporting long blonde tresses. She was pretty even with her sunken cheeks yet she was delivering such ugly news. You tried focusing as hard as you could to remember something that would prove her wrong -- but the fact that you couldn't bring forth any information only made you think she had to be right. "You probably won't remember anything at first. I didn't, took me a day until I remembered why I was even here."

"Where am I then?" You asked and she replied by nodding her head at the next door over from where you were standing.

"Those guys haven't left your side since you came in. The tall one cries when his brother leaves." She was playing with the identifying bracelet on her left wrist, picking at it as she spoke. "I've kinda been watching them, not like there's anything else I can do. Plus the short one's kinda cute even if he's _old_."

Realizing the brothers were here only stirred up nausea. Knowing you were dying was a lot of information to take in already, but seeing Sam and Dean next to your unconscious body wasn't something you were sure you wanted to witness just yet. They must be beside themselves. The teen stood there, watching you mull around whether to step through that door or not.

"It was hard for me too," she reassured. "It sucks like, seeing yourself there and everyone who loves you comes to visit and you like, can't even touch them or tell them how sorry you are for being so stupid."

You gave her a thin lipped smile, afraid if you spoke, you'd throw up all over the clean white tiles. Not that it mattered because no one living would notice.

"My name's Ali, by the way," she added and fully expected you to give your name as well. You decidedly indulged her, not wanting to be rude to the only person who could see you -- the only person who knew what was going on.

"I'm, uh, (Y/N)," you informed, still distracted with the notion of death looming over you, ready to snatch you away from the people who loved you the most.

Ali noticed, and not taking offense she started to head back to her room. "They really care about you, ya know." And with her words she was disappearing into room 424, leaving you in a hallway with linen carts and nurses who couldn't see you. One walked right through you and stopped, as she was hit with a sudden chill. It knocked the wind out of the poor girl, who was looking around for an explanation. When she saw nothing, she moved on.

Despite being what you assumed was a ghost, though you weren't sure if that fit seeing as you were still relatively alive, it felt like there was lead in your shoes. It took great effort to move from where you stood and through the door to where you lay.

The room was so quiet. The only sounds were that of the machines that kept you -- barely -- alive. There was one for your lungs, another to keep you hydrated and full of nutrients, and one to monitor your heart. Everything blipped and beeped and whurred. Sam was sitting next to you, his elbow propped on the mattress, his head in his hand. And you noticed, he was sleeping sitting like that. He looked so tired with the bags under his eyes and his wild hair. It was clear Ali wasn't lying, Sam hadn't left, that much was very clear. Seeing the man in such a state shattered what was left of your heart. You knew he blamed himself and it tore you to know you'd never be able to tell him otherwise.

You moved to stand next to the sleeping man and stared down at your frame. It was undernourished and small, there was hardly any color in your cheeks or skin on your bones. Seeing yourself like this, it felt like a bad dream that you were going to wake up any second now. Any, friggin', second now.

Without warning, Dean strode into the room carrying coffees -- one for himself and one for his brother. "Seriously man, you need to get some sleep." He addressed.

Sam snapped awake at the sound, visibly upset that he had passed out. He reached for the coffee Dean extended to him, took a sip and then ran a hand over his face to rub away the exhaustion. "I can't sleep, what if she wakes up."

"Then I'll wake you up," Dean replied, leaving little room for his brother to argue. But Sam wasn't set on leaving yet, he was staying put for now.

Dean pulled up a chair on the opposite side of you, slipping a hand under your limp one. The man looked just as beat up as Sam. If he was sleeping, it wasn't doing him any good.

"Doc have any news?" The older man asked.

"No, just came by to check her vitals," Sam breathed out, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs.

A silence fell over the two of them as they watched your chest rising and falling with artificial breath and listening to the sounds of the hospital echoing beyond your room.

"I'm sorry guys, I'm so sorry," you cried out. You wished to god they could hear you.

Sam thought he caught something. His ear pricked, and he listened to the air. _Maybe he could hear you after all_.

" _Sam!_ " you yelled and his eyes went wide.

"Dean, did you hear that?" He was looking around the room for some sort of explanation but he swore he heard you. Even if it were just a drawn out whisper that really could've passed for just wind, he swore he heard you call his name. He had to be hallucinating -- maybe he did need to sleep after all.

"Hear what?" Dean asked, his voice unusually gruff.

"I just," he paused, sighing. "I thought I heard my name." He was trying hard to dismiss it but Sam heard what he wanted to hear no matter how faint it was.

"Dude, I really think you need to some shut eye." Dean was concerned for his brother, he'd barely gotten any sleep since you came in. The nurses even wheeled in an extra bed for them to take turns crashing on but Sam opted to stay by your side. It made Dean feel guilty about taking the time to rest but what use was he if he couldn't keep his eyes open anyway.

You decided to try again, maybe if you yelled as loud as you could, Dean would hear it too.

"Dean!" Neither of the boys reacted this time and hope caved in on you, devouring your insides. What you thought might be a chance to set the record straight about who was to carry the blame turned out to be a fruitless ideal.

The moppy haired man yawned, and felt as if he was slowly being defeated. "Fine. Promise you'll wake me up if she--" Sam started and Dean interrupted.

"Yes, yes, I'll wake you up if she so much as twitches."

Sam rose from the chair, leaned down to press his lips to your clammy forehead and headed for the bed opposite of yours.

"I told you they love you." Ali's voice startled you. "C'mon, let's walk and talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still super sick and exhausted, ugh. Colds are the worst! 
> 
> hmu if you're going to SPN Torcon!


	9. Alert Status Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ali gives the reader some news. Whether it's good or bad is yet to be determined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trash is back. I literally make this shit up as I go. It's also 2 in the morning and I'm exhausted so there's that.

"I told you they love you." Ali's voice startled you. "C'mon, let's walk and talk."

You looked back at the curtain Sam had disappeared behind and then to Dean. The older brother propped his chin on the guardrail of the bed, one hand slipping under your heavy palm. Regret, guilt, sorrow, it was all readable in his green eyes that appeared to grow a shade or two darker from the emotion. With a sigh, you turned to the doorway, your corpse-like body and the whirring and beeping of the machines at your back.

Ali made a gentle motion and you followed her out into the long sterile hallway that still reeked of sickness, of desperation no matter how much bleach they used. Looking down one end of the corridor, you saw nurses buzzing about, and you knew that none of them understood this new ethereal world you lived it. It reminded you that you were dying, that there wasn't a damn thing any of those people could do.

"Listen," Ali started, catching your attention again. She smiled warmly, linking your arms together as she escorted you down the hallway with slow and deliberate steps. "I have to tell you something and you can't be mad at me because it's actually kind of good news."

Your brows bumped together, knots forming in your stomach as trepidation punched you hard in the middle. Despite your silence, she kept speaking, hardly giving you any time to respond to her statement in the first place. This was because it didn't matter if you got irate or not, she was going to tell you regardless, it was already decided when she originally asked you to walk with her.

"I'm not dying, you are, but I'm not," she said calmly, completely unconcerned about your reaction.

Her words took all but a second to settle on you and then every last thought collectively pooled around one word: Reaper. Yanking your arm from hers, you took several steps back, ready to bolt down the hallway. Yeah, you accepted wholely that death lingered, and maybe there wasn't a chance of escaping that fate but you weren't willingly walking to your end, she was going to have to drag you kicking and screaming. Once a fighter, always a fighter.

"Oh relax," she dismissed, irritation in her dark brown eyes. Her lips turned up into what could barely be considered a smile. "Turns out someone wants you alive pretty badly. Made a deal with the big boss and everything."

A heavy feeling coated you. If one of the brothers bargained their soul for your life, that wasn't something you would live with well. Hadn't they learned their lessons from past mistakes? God, the thought of watching either of them getting torn to shreds by a hellhound or taken away by a Reaper made your insides do contortions and your eyes mist at the edges. Ali seemed to be able to read the anxiety in your countenance and knew where all your thoughts were accumulating.

"No, not the Winchesters," she affirmed.

A sigh of relief fell from your lips and cut through the hallway. But then it caught back up to you. If it wasn't the brothers, who could it have been? You weren't close enough with any other hunters besides Dean and Sam, and your blood family was basically nonexistent. Dread slowly crept over your mind, down your spine, and into your gut, wringing it dry between its dark palms. This wasn't right. It wasn't the natural order. You didn't want to die but if there was some big plan for you, it probably wasn't going to play out well for anyone. You were stuck between conflicting emotions and doing what was best for everyone.

"Who? Who made the deal?" You demanded.

Ali shook her head slowly, lips pulled tight, blonde hair swaying gently. "I can't tell you, that's not part of the agreement. All you need to know is, you live."

"No," you stated. "Just take me, I don't want to know how this story's gonna play out. I'll go with you."

"A deal is a deal, girl. Sorry, not much I can do," she shrugged, held her palm out, and suddenly you were ripped from the coma and hurtled straight into consciousness, leaving you panicked and confused. The second you came back to being, machines filled the room with a high pitched, deafening sound. You remembered nothing, you didn't even know where you were. There was a scream in your core that wanted to erupt but you found when you tried, there were restrictions all the way down your throat. Your esophagus being blocked caused a surge of alarm to sweep over you. Frantically, you clawed at your throat as you choked on the pipe and then realized as your knuckles came into vision, there were needles plugged into the veins on the back of your hand -- and in the crooks of your arms. But before you could yank the intrusions out, a man was grabbing your wrists, working to pull them back. His strength far outmatched yours despite trying your hardest to prevail and he held them tightly against the mattress. You couldn't yell for help, you couldn't fight back against these threats, and you had no idea what was happening to you. All that you were totally aware of, was the incredible sense of foreboding that coated your soul. There was something that terrified you, something you couldn't remember. Tears welled up in your eyes as you squirmed hard against the lockdown of your arms, whines the only sounds able to fall from your lips.

"Sammy!" the man bellowed and the curtain flapped open as another, much taller man, came rushing in. He made a grab for your ankles, effectively keeping you wrangled. Suddenly there was a rush of people whirling in the door, all clad in scrubs and assembling around you.

"Ma'am, we need you to calm down," one of them spoke. Wide-eyed and full of terror, you pulled harder against the grip the men had on your limbs. You tried to kick the one off your legs but he was too efficient. What did these people want from you?

They urged you several more times to calm down and when you wouldn't stop twisting and squirming and tugging, another nurse stepped to the IV with a needle. She inserted it into the injection port and slowly pressed the plunger until the container was completely empty.

Abruptly, exhaustion hit you like a thundering truck, dragging you across the pavement and leaving you in a wreck underneath it. Yes, you still tried to fight, but enervation stole the effort from you until the boys no longer had to hold you down -- until you were no longer a threat to them or yourself. Darkness reached up, wrapping its claws around you, dragging you into its deep waters. You were tangled there, unable to break to the surface, and you suffocated in the blackness until you were floating in the nothing. A warm, comforting, nothing.

\--------

Dean was deep in thought and leaning on the guardrail, using one arm as a cushion under his chin. He hadn't moved since coming back into the room and since his exhausted brother disappeared for some much-needed sleep. Dean's heart and head felt awful and heavy. When he looked at you, supine and breathing through artificial means, he felt a crushing amount of guilt. If he had been more aware, you wouldn't be dying and Sam wouldn't be falling into a pit of despair. The younger brother thought he was good at hiding it but Dean knew that Sam cried when he wasn't around. Dean absolutely knew what this was doing to his brother, and it was killing him slowly. Sam really cared for you, he was running himself into the ground seeking forgiveness that wasn't coming. You were heavily under and still, Sam refused to leave your side as if it proved something, maybe to you or to himself, who knew.

Your hand twitched on top of Dean's and his head shot up rapidly, green eyes searching your face for another sign. He waited for a breath before calling for Sam, on the off chance it was a false alarm but without any more warning, you were shooting awake. You looked like a wild, frightened animal as you clawed viciously at your throat, your body writhing. Dean jumped to grab your wrists, wrenching them away from the tube to save you from causing any lasting damage to your windpipe. You were strong and fighting hard and as Dean looked down at you, he realized then that you weren't with him.

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed. The moppy-haired hunter was already rushing through the curtain the second his name left his brothers tongue. Sam had barely been clinging to sleep in the first place and he wasn't sure if it was the sound of you trying to take your first initial gasp of air or the screaming machines that cleared the slumber from his system. But he was already cognizant and rushing for you before Dean shouted for him. He moved to help restrain your flailing limbs, wrapping his tight grip around both ankles. Your terrified eyes struck Sam to his core, he never wanted to see that look on your face again -- he would do everything in his power to prevent it.

Suddenly there was a whirlwind of nurses that flooded through the doorway and engulfed the bed. They urged you to calm down but when they couldn't talk you down, a nurse was injecting your bloodstream with a sedative, rendering you incapacitated. Dean was the first to let go, backing up slowly. Sam followed suit about a breath later.

Both brothers stood there panting, Sam was fisting his hair. Neither of them had a clue what just happened but an uneasy feeling settling over them like fine dust.

\--------

The boys were informed that it might take several hours for the drug to be through your system enough that you'd be somewhat aware. "Just have patience, and let her rest," an elderly nurse whose name badge read Barb assured. "I don't know if you boys know but you got a little miracle on your hands." She smiled warmly and slipped out of the room to leave you to Dean and Sam.

"Alright, what the hell was that?" Dean asked as he and his brother settled into chairs on either side of you. "I've never seen her that scared."

Sam tilted his head. "Yeah, I think I'd be too if I woke up suddenly with a tube down my throat."

"No, it was more than that. I could see it in her eyes," Dean insisted. "Something happened." And he had a terrible notion of what it could be. There was no way you were waking up that suddenly, and that violently without some help.

"Do you think she made a deal?" Sam's brows bumped together, anxiety in his hazel eyes as he looked you over. He thought you looked a lot more serene without all the tubes.

Dean rubbed a hand over his frowning mouth, not wanting to answer the question. He hoped to god you wouldn't be that stupid.

Sam collapsed back in the chair, a loud sigh leaving his lips. And now they had to wait. Again.

 


End file.
